


Strike Two

by humanveil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Minor Violence, Post-Deathly Hallows, Rough Sex, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 03:50:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11683431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: Lucius pays Severus a visit after he’s acquitted.





	Strike Two

**Author's Note:**

> filed under: _is it really hate sex if they love each other?_

The floor gleams, the reflection of light irritating. And yet, Severus stares. Waiting. Always waiting.

There’s a pit of dread in his stomach, though he’d be dammed before he’d admit it. He hates this, he thinks. Waiting. It’s always so tedious. He’s certain another day spent listening to Ministry officials argue over petty facts will be his undoing.

But then, finally: _Acquitted._

Relief, warm and relaxing. He takes a quiet breath and exhales slowly, sees Narcissa do the same across the crowd; Draco, too. When he looks, Lucius is smirking. A faint tilt of his lip, barely visible to anyone who doesn’t know him. Who doesn’t know his expressions.

But, Severus knows. _Oh_ , how he knows.

It’s followed by a list of restrictions. Probation. Severus doesn’t pay too much attention. He’s sure Lucius doesn’t, either.

A voice speaks behind him, coming from the left. It’s Potter, his face drawn in poorly veiled annoyance. “It was your testimony,” he says, and he doesn’t have to explain further.

Severus can’t decide if he’s happy or not.

They’re not supposed to leave yet, but still. He stands, makes his way out of the crowd. Out of the Ministry.

Lucius probably expects him to wait, but. No. He goes home and tells himself it’s because Draco and Narcissa are there, waiting. Tells himself it’s best to leave family with family.

He doesn’t admit that he might be scared, just a little, of what could happen.

*

Lucius appears at Spinner’s End exactly a week post-trial.

Severus had been expecting _something_ – an owl, maybe, or possibly a floo call. Not a very pissed off Lucius Malfoy apparating directly into his sitting room at half past three in the afternoon.

Severus blinks at him. He’s dressed in a summer robe, the fabric hanging off his lean body. Polished boots are denting Severus’ carpet, and when he looks, there’s a wand he’s never seen before held tightly in one hand.

“I thought your magic was restricted.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Lucius glares, waves his hand to dismiss the comment. “Did you expect me to listen?”

 _No_ , Severus thinks, but doesn’t say. There’s no need to voice it. They both know the answer.

He stands from his seat with a sigh. “What do you want?”

Lucius’ eyebrow arches, the look a mix between _are you serious?_ and _are you trying to be daft?_ “War hero,” he scorns. His voice is a mere mutter, the words expressed through clenched teeth. “Dumbledore’s man. _Spy for the light_. Tell me, Severus, were you always this much of a renegade? My memories suggest otherwise but perhaps I was wrong.”

Severus had expected that much. Had expected the anger.

“Do you want me to say I’m sorry?” he asks, sardonic.

“You should be.”

“Why?” Lucius is a head taller than he is, and he likes to use it to his advantage, likes to stand over him in a way that often scares other people. But Severus isn’t intimidated; hasn’t been, not for a very long time. “You are not that inept, Lucius. Even you should have realised what kind of cataclysm they were running by the end of it.”

“And you think this is better?”

“Do I think being alive and out of Azkaban is better?” Severus asks. “Yes, I daresay I do.”

“He woul—”

“Come off it.” Severus’ voice drips disdain, his words pitched to hurt. “Do you seriously think the Dark Lord would have let you live much longer? What use is a disgraced wizard without a wan—”

A hand closes around his throat before he can finish the sentence, fingers squeezing with a harsh grip. Lucius has stepped closer, his body almost flush against Severus’, his breath warm as it ghosts across Severus’ skin.

“ _Watch your tongue_ ,” he murmurs, voice so low it’s barely audible.

Severus has a hand curled around Lucius’ wrist, the other on his wand shall he need it. He doesn’t struggle, doesn’t try to talk, just looks up at Lucius’ face and waits for the grip to ease like he knows it will. When it finally does, his back is pressed against the side of his sitting room, his body enclosed between the edge of a bookshelf, the jut of his wall where the fireplace sits, and Lucius’ own body. He’s breathing heavier, catching his breath; adrenaline bubbling through his veins.

He knows what’s going to happen next.

Lucius’ mouth is rougher than usual, the press of his lips demanding. There’s an underlying anger to his touch, a type of frustration that makes his teeth bite with intent, that makes his hands hold on too tight.

Part of Severus knows that he shouldn’t rise to it; that he ought to tell Lucius to fuck off and make him leave. The other part – the part he often damns – enjoys the press of a knee between his thighs too much. Enjoys the memories it prompts; of every other time they’ve done this, of the days where Lucius’ touch had been much, much kinder.

He’s bent over the back of his couch eventually, both his and Lucius’ clothes disappearing with a flick of a wrist and a murmured word. Lucius uses a preparation spell, in no mood to do it himself, and Severus curls his lip at the uncomfortable adjustment. He’s never liked them – knows, distantly, that it’s part of the reason Lucius uses it.

Lucius nudges his legs further apart, one hand curled around his hip while the other settles at the base of his own cock; guiding its movements. He enters Severus without preamble, without care. Thrusts into him with one swift movement and only offers a brief moment for Severus to adjust before he starts moving again, hips plunging at a quick pace. Lucius fucks brutally, rapidly. He’s never been what Severus would call a delicate lover, at least not since their very early days, but his actions now are harsher than what Severus has grown used to.

Still, he enjoys it. Loves the burn, loves the hint of possession that rests within every thrust. He knows he can be the exact same when their positions are reversed, and so he doesn’t complain. Just takes it, his fingers clenching around the cushion of his couch; hair dangling in front of his face and sticking to skin that has started to sweat.

“After everything,” Lucius growls, his body bent so he can whisper in Severus’ ear. His nails are scratching Severus’ skin, likely leaving dots of blood and other marks behind. “I have half a mind to kill you.”

“But you won’t,” Severus grits out. His only answer is an increase in speed and a bite to his shoulder, Lucius’ teeth digging into the skin hard enough that Severus knows it will bruise.

An arm curls around his waist, a hand wrapping around the hard length of his cock. Lucius moves his hand just as roughly, just as quickly; makes sure that Severus comes first. And Severus does – his body going slack, his teeth clenching shut to muffle the loud groan. Come stripes the materials of his couch, thick streaks staining the fabric, but Severus has no time to dwell on it as Lucius’ climax follows. He can feel Lucius’ come inside him, can feel it drip across his skin when Lucius pulls out.

He ought to find it disgusting, he thinks, but he doesn’t. Never has.

“You don’t get a third chance,” Lucius tells him, voice more breathless than usual. Severus watches from the corner of his eye as he slips his robe back on, hand impatiently pushing away the few strands of hair that stick to his cheek.

He doesn’t say anything. There isn’t anything _to_ say. Severus has learnt from the first time that it’s better to let Lucius come around on his own terms, in his own time. That pushing it will only worsen things for the both of them.

So he watches Lucius and go and makes no movement to stop him, not moving from the couch until the door has shut behind the other man.


End file.
